


Stars Know

by MSpataro210



Series: Season 12 Inspired [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, F/M, M/M, Memories, Mother/Son Bonding, Stargazing, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: On the road to Sam, the Winchesters decide to rest at a small motel.  Mary, however, cannot get to sleep, and seeks comfort in some old friends.  Under their watch, does she start to mend the bridge between her and Dean destroyed by her death.Coda to 12x01





	

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy there folks!  
> 12 seasons, excited?  
> I was-to write a fic that is. I wanted to do something that was about Mary and Dean talking about his relationship with Cas, but let me tell you that is more like sub-plot. The real plot is between Dean and Mary. I hope y'all enjoy!

            The stars are familiar, at least. Them, and the cool metal hood she’s sitting under. Other than that, Mary feels like she’s on a different planet.

            If she squints, she can start to put together a constellation or two. It was one of the few things she allowed herself while on the road with her family. Staying up late, seeing if she could recognize any of the stars from a previous town, if they would recognize her. As she got older, she learned that no matter where she went, the stars would stay the same. It was a constant in her life full of change.

            Even when she settled down in Lawrence, she could never give up her friends in the sky. Some nights, she would pull out a blanket in the backyard and lie back and just stare. John would join her from time to time. She’d wrap his arms over her, and she’d whisper the names of each star and constellation into his skin. They’d stay like that all night, falling asleep, and waking up to the largest star of all.

            She even brought Dean out there some nights when he was young. It seems like years ago.

            It was years ago.

            She sighs, long and loud, and leans back onto Baby’s hood.

            “Comfortable?”

            She doesn’t startle, but she does turn her head. Dean is by the door, leaning on it. He’s crossed his arms, and he keeps his mouth in a straight line.

            “Not yet,” Mary smiles, turning back, “maybe if somebody joined me…?”

            She feels him hop up next to her a few seconds later.

            They sit in silence for a while. Mary is staring up at the stars while Dean is staring at her. He tries to find his voice. It comes to him soon enough.

            “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

            She raises a brow at him.

            “Shouldn’t that be _my_ line?”

            Dean stifles a snort, looking away.

            “Yeah,” he says, “but you had a rough day-“

            “It wasn’t my ass being handed to me earlier.”

            He doesn’t hide his laughter this time. He barks, catching Mary off guard.

            “Forgot how much of a spitfire you used to be,” Dean shakes his head, “from the way Dad talked about you…”

            He trails off, clearing his throat.

            “Are those all the memories you have of me, Dean?” Mary turns to him, “Do you remember anything that wasn’t told to you or-or from the past? Anything with me as your mother and you as my-as my son?”

            She turns away, wiping at one of the tears that spilled from her eye.

            “Some things.”

            Mary turns back. Dean isn’t looking at her anymore; he’s looking at the stars.

            “I remember the little things… the way you used to make grilled cheese sandwiches and apple pie… how you filled the house with flowers in the spring and summer… the way you kissed me goodnight and,” he chuckles, “and how you told me that angels were watching over me.”

            “I didn’t think they would watch that closely,” she looks back at the motel, “you never did tell me how you started traveling with your very own guardian angel.”

            “We were kind of busy,” Dean starts, “what with Sam being taken and all.”

            Mary places a hand on Dean’s knee and rubs it. “We’ll get him back, Dean, don’t worry.”

            “I know,” Dean nods, staring at Mary’s hand, “just… the longer it takes, the more my mind… _wanders_.” To where is left unsaid.

            “Then let’s stop that,” Mary smiles, “tell me: how did you and Cas meet?”

            Dean chuckles. His cheeks start to burn and he licks his lips.

            “It was a few nights after I dug myself out of my grave-I had kinda… _died_ , for a few months, before being resurrected. At first, we didn’t know how or who. There was nothing on a creature being able to pull a soul out of Hell. The closest thing we got to a lead was a place… and a name-”

            “Castiel,” Mary guesses.

            “Yeah,” Dean smiles, looking back at the sky, “we didn’t know what Castiel could be, but we tried our damnest to prepare. In a barn, Bobby, an old hunter friend I’m sure you would have loved, and I put up sigils and loaded guns with all types of rounds: salt, silver, you name it. I even had a knife that could kill _any_ demon. We thought we were ready. All we needed was for the monster to show up. And boy, did he show up.”

            “The doors _blasted_ open and there he was: a man in a rumpled trench coat. He didn’t look threatening, at first glance, but he had this… this _power_ about him. It seeped out of him and charged the entire barn. We fired rounds, but he kept walking. I stabbed him, and all he did was, he did this little tilt of his head that was just the cu-just uh… _odd_. And he stared at me, like, right into my soul and-“

            He stops, blinking back to himself. He looks at Mary, then away.

            “And that was that,” he finishes, “friends ever since.”

            “That’s a wonderful story,” Mary smiles, “although it does sound familiar.”

            “I don’t think you ever heard a story like that,” Dean snorts, “unless you’ve been reading the books based on our lives which-which you don’t want to read, like, _ever._ ”

            Mary chuckles, “No, no, I’m talking about when I met your father. You know how that goes-you did tell it to me earlier.” She’s the only one laughing.

            Mary feels Dean tense under her hand. As if she said something _wrong_.

            “What are you,” Dean breathes, “what are you trying to say?”

            “I’m just saying that there are a few things similar-“

            “About how you met the love of your life and between me and Cas,” Dean bristles, “you’ve only been around one day, can you hold back on the nosy mom routine for when I ask for it?”

            “Dean Winchester!” Mary squeezes his knee, “I demand an apology this instant!”

            Dean frowns. He takes a few beats before he releases a tense breath.

            “M’sorry,” he turns to her, “I-I shouldn’t have snapped.”

            “Damn right,” Mary nods, “the only thing I’m glad I missed out on was your teenage rebellion phase. Don’t put me through that the second night back.”

            Dean laughs. He bumps shoulders with Mary to let her know he’s better.

            “I won’t,” Dean starts, “it’s just-me ‘n’ Cas-it’s a… _sensitive_ topic.”

            “But it’s a topic?” Mary raises a brow.

            “Look,” Dean starts, “I know you might be new to these times but, but that’s more acceptable in this day and age-“

            “Dean, I’ve never had a problem with any of that stuff.”

            Dean blinks. “You-you didn’t?”

            “Never,” Mary nods, “I didn’t care about it before I died and I don’t care now. What I _do_ care about is your happiness and-he _does_ make you happy?”

            Dean turns away, blushing for the third time that night.

            “Maybe,” he whispers, “I’m not sure if that’s what I feel but-but it’s damn close to it.”

            “Then he’s alright in my books,” she smiles, moving her hand from his knee to his hand. She squeezes tight, and he returns the gesture.

            They stay like that for a while. Mother and son hold tight, looking into the night sky.

            “Do you remember,” Mary starts, “nights where we’d go out into the backyard. We’d just lay and watch the stars. Do you, Dean?”

            “No, “Dean answers,” But maybe we can try and jog my memory?"

            Mary and Dean scoot up and lean back against the windshield. Mary uses her free hand to point out stars to Dean, telling them their name, history, and the constellations they help form.

            It’s strange.

            It’s familiar.

            Like Dean.

            The four-year old boy she held in her arms was gone, but he was buried deep within the man next to her. A man wrapped in so many protective layers; it was going to take a lot of time, hard work, and love to peel them back and get to Dean’s heart. But she’s ready to put it all in. She wants to know her son again-wants to get to know her other son for the first time.

            Her friends, the stars, they know.

            Mary wants to as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Like? A lot shorter than I'm used to but it's one of those stories that don't need much.  
> Leave a kudos and a comment to let me know what you think!


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